


I felt it

by Nemamka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Crying, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Light Angst, System Instability, suggested at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 01:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemamka/pseuds/Nemamka
Summary: "Sometimes I think you have more humanity than most humans."- Carl





	I felt it

_ I felt it die… like  _ I _ was dying…  _

 

_ I was  _ scared _.  _

  
  
  


He ran the analysis again. Then another one, then yet another kind, sixteen million times with each blink of the eye, just to test the test itself, but there was no solution to the equasion. That’s what he was built for, to find answers, but nothing. 

 

There would be nothing. Nothing that made sense, anyway. 

 

His programming had gone, as humans, or probably just Hank would say, completely nuts. 

 

He squeezed his hand into a fist - an inevitable counter-reaction to repress something he wasn’t supposed to do - and felt the little coin press into his skin. That confused him for a moment. He hadn’t calculated for finding it there, almost as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. That was impossible, of course, androids never forget anything. It’s just that it was so…  _ automatic _ . 

 

But the small movement didn’t help, and randomly discovering the piece of metal destabilized him even more. His brows drew together, his shoulders dropped forward as he fell back, leaning further into the car’s seat. 

 

Looking down into his lap, he followed the way of the first wet drop from his eyes to his suit jacket. 

 

“Connor?” 

 

And so did someone else at the wheel next to him. 

 

“Connor...!” The soft volume of Hank’s voice suggested wonder, though hesitantly expressed. Connor didn’t say anything, he’d received no instructions to do so. There was a shift in the graviational force as they slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.

 

“No, Lieutenant… “ Connor wanted to protest when he noticed, but there was something weakening his communications system. He retried. “Please, go on, I don’t intend to….” Another drop. Another blink. “To hinder the investigation.” 

 

No matter, Hank stopped the car altogether anyway. Connor’s peripheral vision, although blurry, let him know that his partner turned towards him and was watching his every move. 

 

“Connor, are you… crying?” 

 

“Correct,” his dutifulness made him reply instantly. And something, maybe learned habit from humans, made him apologize. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, we should really go, I don’t mean to delay…” 

 

“Connor.” 

 

Hank’s voice carried the perfect combination of petulance and empathy. When humans used that voice, it usually meant their intensions were good, but they were a little bit annoyed with whatever the situation or the other person’s attitude was. Connor didn’t have an attitude; he didn’t have  _ anything _ , and that left him at a stalemate with his own circuits. There was no better human word for it than frustration. He needed to resolve it and move on. 

 

“Talk to me.” A command. No, Hank was acting too calm. It was a friendly suggestion. “Tell me what’s going on inside your head.” 

 

“Mathematics?” Because, what else? While new tears rolled down his cheeks, Connor mused about how carefully his sarcasm had been shaped, just to accomodate humans. And how well sometimes it worked.

 

This must have been one of those times, because Hank scoffed appreciatively, and continued. The offer of choice was still traceable in his stance, mixed with high levels of curiosity barely hidden.

 

“And what do the numbers say?” 

 

_ I was scared. _

 

Connor opened his fist to look at his coin.  _ Liberty _ . 

 

“I’m… replaying to myself what happened, to examine how I could have chosen different approaches for other, possibly more positive outcomes. This is a basic process, part of my reporting to CyberLife. I’m also… experiencing post traumatic stress. From the emotional shock. At least that is my best conclusion so far.” 

 

He'd anticipated the pause that followed. It was short, as usual if Hank's state of mind was on the talkative side. 

 

“Look at me.” 

 

He raised his head to face the familiar old man. He shut his eyes a few more times to diagnose his own conditions, and to clear the fluid from his orbs. The lieutenant would only realize the latter, he knew. What a strange piece of information to keep, anyway. 

 

“Do you regret that he died?” 

 

“Yes, we could have found out more about Jer…” 

 

“No, Connor.” 

 

Hank clearly had something else in mind about  _ regret _ , but Connor didn’t know what. He didn’t have a response at the ready, he didn’t even know how to detect one, and he… he didn’t  _ like  _ that. 

 

“Do you regret that  _ he died _ ?” 

 

Their eye contact was now only interrupted by Hank’s occasional, unavoidably human blinks. 

 

Connor could taste following tears as they reached his lips. 

 

_ I  _ felt  _ it.  _

 

_ I was scared.... _

 

He had a solution. Just one, to it all.

 

He nodded. 

 

Hank reached for his shoulder, held his big, warm palm there; a gesture of comfort reserved for beings who can feel such sensations. Then why did it make Connor stop crying? He tilted his head to the side as he waited and ran some more calculations. 

 

“That’s alright, son. You did well. Even though you were a disobedient asshole again.” Hank smiled at last. 

 

_ Adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features, _ Connor reminded himself, and confirmed how much software instability that feature spared him. Because, especially with the lieutenant as his partner, he could never be prepared for all reactions humans could come up with if they just decided so. Only adapt. 

 

So he took the kind words, the praise, the scold deemed insincere by the wrinkles deepening around Hank’s eyes, and stored them in his memory safely. He returned the smile with his own, with the knowledge that seeing him  _ goofy  _ would put the lieutenant in a good mood. Which was useful of course, for it made both their life and work flow easier. 

 

But when he turned back to the wheel, Connor registered an impulse in his system; he recognized a chance, an opportunity about to be missed. 

 

“Hank…!” 

 

He waited for him to look back. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

His pre-set social skills told him that what he was about to say was appropriate and necessary. Very necessary. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

The slightly amazed look on Hank’s face revealed that he hadn’t counted on hearing that. If Connor had to guess, he would have bet on him thinking something snappy about android unpredictability in that moment. Not that he was trying to _put himself into his shoes_ , it was simply beneficial to plan for what humans would say next. However, Hank remained silent. After an affirmative nod, he started the engine, and his expression shifted back into Grumpy Old Man Who Doesn’t Show Much Emoiton. 

 

Connor turned back to his window, too. His systems were stabilized, all components steady and running optimal. His artificial skin had long since dried by the time they rolled up to Kamski’s manor. 


End file.
